Gang Wars
by hysterekal00
Summary: Emmett works in a gang, run by the mysterious Carlisle Cullen. Rosalie is a spy for her boyfriend's gang, working in a mechanic's shop. When the two gangs fight, they meet - but will they walk away alive, or dead? AH/AU. T for violence
1. Chapter 1

EPOV

"We got 'em." The horse whisper drifted across the gloom, reaching my ears. I nodded, my hand falling to the small revolver on my hip. The knife strapped to my left bicep would have been my first choice, but this was a long-range hunt, and even if I wanted to, our prey would be gone by the time I got close enough to use it.

"Roger that." I muttered, adjusting the mike glued to my face. It was crude, but it did the job. I knew that the Boss back at Headquarters would hear.

"McCarty, you're on left. Take 'em out. The rest of ya'll wait here until we're back." Jasper Whitlock, the organizer of this run, muttered into his radio. His heavy Texan accent made it hard to understand him sometimes, but I was pretty sure most of us had gotten the message.

"Signing off, Major." I smirked and hit the switch on my radio, slipping it into the pouch on my left hip. I could almost see Whitlock's scowl. He hated it when I called him Major. I did a quick run over, tightening the straps on my boots, testing my gun, that sort of stuff, before straightening up to my full 6'5.

Perhaps a bit of an explanation would be helpful here. I'm Emmett McCarty, Tennessee native. I moved to New York after college, seeking a new life. I quickly became part of one of the notorious street gangs in New York City, The Bloods. I rocketed up the rankings, due to my build and strong fighting skills. Now I'm part of Whitlock's gang, the elite takeout team. I love it. I've already been a vital part of at least 5 missions, and now I'm second in command.

Tonight, we've been staking out around a forest to capture a small group of boys, from Manhattan. They popped up a few weeks ago, quickly turning into a force to be reckoned with after they took out one of our informants, Mike Newton, and his gal, Jessica Stanly. Both had many times gone undercover at the police station, Mike becoming an officer, with Jessica being his secretary. They had disappeared one night on their way to Headquarters, and we suspected these men for that.

I started slinking through the shadows, my steps quiet, as tall as I was. I drew out my gun, loading it and adjusting the scope as I walked. I twirled the barrel, checking the functions, before clicking the safety off. By now, I was ten feet from their fire, listening to the talking around the light.

"I told you the first time! Their trussed up good in the back of the truck." One of the boys spoke, his skin tan.

"They'd better be." The tallest man spoke then, and I could tell from his tones that he was still the one in charge.

"God, Jacob, calm down. It's fine. That little gang of pansies has nothing on us anyways." The first man spoke again.

The tall one, Jacob, rose. "Shut it, Quil. Nothing is fine until that cash is sitting in our truck where those idiots are now."

The first boy, Quil, held up his hands in the universal 'calm down' gesture. "Alright, alright Jake, breathe. Sam won't be happy to know that you blew on this mission."

The smallest boy's hand flew out, catching Quil in the neck. "No names, idiot! You could get us killed!"

Jacob sat down slowly, his eyes on the younger boy. He sat still for a few minutes, before sighing. "Look, Seth, I requested you on this mission because I thought you'd be a break from Embry. Just take a chill pill, alright? We've said Sam's name before, and look, we're all still here."

Seth nodded stiffly, before turning to the hot dog he held over the fire, stuck on a wire hanger. Silence fell over the boys as they sat there, doing nothing.

I pulled out a thermal scanner one of our boys had snitched from the FBI on an undercover mission. I swung it around the area, looking through the lens. There were only five red spots- the hearts of the three boys, and two lying vertical next to each other, somewhat far away. They never moved. I assumed that this was Mike and Jessica, but I couldn't be too sure. Then an idea hit me. Whitlock had told me to draw away at least one of the men, to pump him for secrets later. I quickly pulled out my phone, dialing Jessica's number. She always had her phone on, and in one of those new charging cases. Sure enough, the loud sound of Katy Perry's "California Gurls" played out from somewhere, causing the three boys to jump.

Quil sighed and stood, brushing off his jeans. "Stupid hostages, not turning their phones off. I'll see to it." He stood and walked into the gloom, where I assumed the truck was.

Then I tapped my mike with my finger, sending a slight noise to where Whitlock was across from me in the trees. That was the signal. I counted to three before placing my finger on the trigger, letting the shot fly. The dart buried itself in Jacob's neck, and his eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but he never got time to before he fell onto the ground. Seth jumped up, I suppose to check on his fallen leader, but Whitlock's dart caught him in the thigh. He fell to his knees, groaning, but not down. I heard Jasper cuss over the mike before shooting again, this one hitting the neck. Seth went down like a stone, his head landing on Jacob's leg.

"All clear." He whispered over the radios. "Grab the bodies."

I walked from the shadows, stuffing the boy's into a black body bag. Those would go in the car until the tranquilizer wore off. I then sat at Seth's spot, my back to where Quil had disappeared. And I waited.

Quil did not disappoint. He walked up from straight behind me, mumbling something about nails and girls. Then he stopped. "Hey, Seth – where's Jake?"

"Oh, he's out for the night." I stood, turning slowly, my gun out. "Now, hands on your head, no sudden movements, and no one's gonna get hurt."

Quil nodded franticly, his eyes huge. He didn't know that there were no real bullets in this gun, and I wasn't planning on telling him anytime soon.

"So," I started walking towards him. "Who are these…_hostages _you have with you?"

Quil shook in his boots, terrified. "A-a guy and a g-girl. J-Jake ca-called them Mi-Mike and Jess-Jessica."

I nodded slowly, lowering the barrel of my gun by a fraction of an inch. "Good. Anything else you have to say?"

Quil shook his head.

I shrugged. "Ah, well. No problem of mine." My finger slipped back down onto the trigger.

Quil's eyes bugged even more, if that was possible. "You said you wouldn't hurt me!" He squeaked, terrified.

"Well, guess what? I lied." I pulled the trigger, watching as he fell in a heap at my feet. I stuffed him in the remaining body bag and threw it over my shoulder, before walking in the direction Quil had come from.

I soon saw the truck, an ugly pickup. A metal sheet had been thrown over the back, but it was easy enough to remove. I grinned at the faces of Mike and Jessica staring up at me. No one liked them, but it would be good to have a flow of info again. I quickly untied their bonds, ripping the duct tape gags from their mouths. "How goes it?" I asked, helping them out from the truck.

Mike glared at me, reminding me how much I hate that guy. "How do you think it's been, McCarty? Or have you gotten dumber since we were gone?"

I sighed and gently placed the metal back on the truck. "Zip it, or we won't be getting out of here."

Mike shot me another look, before following me to where Whitlock was standing. "Nicely done, McCarty." He bumped my fist before turning to his radio. "The job's done – get ready to clear out." He dropped it back into his belt before waving us out. He took the lead of our little party, with Mike, than Jessica, then me behind him. I slipped my gun back into it's holster, carrying the three bags on my shoulders. Jacob was staring to shift, and I was worried we hadn't pumped enough tranquilizer fluid into the darts to knock someone of his size out. I quickly opened the bag, sending a swift punch to his head. He fell still once more, and I continued walking.

We quickly found our men, already sitting in the car. They looked like any other group of boys goofing off in their car in a back lot. I threw the bags into the trunk of my red Jeep before jumping into the driver's seat. Jasper swung into shotgun, while Mike and Jessica joined the mess in the back. I quickly slammed down on the gas, swinging us forward with a jolt. Even though Jasper was my superior, he knew better than to touch my Jeep. And truthfully, I think he was afraid of the thing, so much different from his motorcycle. The drive to headquarters was quit, broken only once when one of our braver boys, Eric, asked Jessica if her right leg had met her left leg recently. He earned a slap for his efforts from Jessica, but laughter from most of us guys. Well, except from Mike. He just glowered. Like always.

We pulled into Headquarters late at night, the moon brushing the roof of the place. We all piled out, most guys stifling yawns. I unpacked the bags from the back before locking the Jeep, knocking on the steel door of Headquarters. And who else had to answer the door then the son of our Boss.

I scowled at the boy standing in front of us, his red hair spiky, his yellow and dark red argyle sweater vest standing out in the gloom. "Emmett." He greeted me formally, my scowl deepening.

"Edward. Out of my way." The Boss's son raised his eyebrow.

"Should I tell my father about the arrogant tone you take with me?"

"Go bang on your piano a bit. Maybe you can churn out something good for once." I muttered, brushing past him. That wasn't fair – Edward was actually a fantastic composer, but was I going to tell him that? Noooo.

He scowled at me, but with his lack of any training, there was nothing he could do. The rest of the group pushed past him too, some of them giving him a gentle shove, sending him reeling. Jessica paused to flirt with him slightly, but he just sighed and looked over her head. She scowled and followed our party through the building.

Headquarters really was a fantastic place – three stories high, with over fifty rooms. The biggest room, of course, was the Boss's office. I guess we got lucky with the Boss. He was actually amazingly nice, treating us all like we're his children. His wife was even nicer, cooking for us and often buying us things.

The Boss's wife was one of the few girls in Headquarters. We had Jessica, Edward's girl Bella, Garret's girl Kate, a few other girlfriends, and the little barmaid. Now she was a force to be reckoned with. Barely coming up to my shoulder, she was dishing out drinks to the guys at night and practicing in the dojo during the day. Yet her eyes were always sparkling, and her black hair was short and pointy, almost like Edward's, yet they weren't related. Her name was Mary Alice, although we all called her Alice. No one knew her last name, and no one cared either. Once, while Jasper and I had gone for a drive, he had admitted to me that he had feelings for her. I had laughed so hard I had to pull the car over, and when I stopped, Jasper's horrified expression sent me into more peals of laughter. Of course, I was the only one who knew, and carried his secret with pride.

I was one of the only guys in The Bloods who didn't have a girl to call my own, and it bugged me. I mean, I'd met a few girls, but none of them really stood out. But I didn't really have time for a girlfriend anyways, due to all the work I did for the gang. Whatever. I mean, this isn't a sappy story about my lack of romance. Back to the storyline.

The entire group had dissipated by the time Jasper and I made it to the Boss's door. No one liked coming in here, unless they were summoned for a raise, or a medal. Even now, when we had returned our informants, and brought three prisoners, my heart was still pounding and my stomach churning. I swallowed and looked back at Jasper. He nodded and stepped forward, rapping softly on the wooden door with his knuckles.

"Come in." The Boss was still young, maybe 37, at my best guess. He and his wife adopted Edward when they were twenty, and he was their only kid. We walked in, sitting down on the comfy leather chairs he had in front of his desk. I dropped the bags to my feet, looking at the man that ran my life. He had close cut sandy blond hair and startling blue eyes, hidden behind a pair of thin wire glasses. He wore a thin white cotton button down and a pair of khakis. I assumed that his shoes were as sensible and comfortable as the rest of him – possibly old loafers, or Nikes. His lab coat hung on a hook attached to the door, pictures of his family spotting the whitewashed walls. Shelves filled with books took up most of the room in the area, with confusing medical titles I didn't understand. Edward's grand piano sat in the far corner, shining with the faint light coming from the fan on the ceiling.

I turned my attention back to the man at the pale wood desk. A small laptop sat in front of him, sending light onto his face. He smiled at us, his perfect skin pulling back around his mouth. "How'd the mission go?"

"Good." Jasper spoke, his voice calm and quiet. "We successfully rescued Mike and Jessica unharmed, and collected the three men guarding them."

The Boss nodded, turning to face me. "Where are the three men?"

I picked up the three bags from my feet, placing them on my lap. "Right here. We shot them with tranquilizers, like you asked."

The Boss opened the bags, inspecting our men. After a pause, he looked back up at us. "How would you guys like it if you got moved up to the E.G?"

I blinked. "_The_ E.G?"

The Boss laughed softly. "Do you know of any others?"

We both shook our heads, stunned. The E.G stood for the Elite Guard, a group of men and boys that took all the top jobs. They were also in charge of protecting The Boss anytime he went out.

The Boss folded his hands, placing them in his lap. "Well?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "We'd love to."

Jasper nodded quickly in agreement, his long blond hair going back and forth.

The Boss smiled. "I'm glad. Jasper, tell Garrett he's in charge now. Emmett, you can take the prisoners to the interrogation room. In the morning, report back here."

We nodded and stood, my hand clutching the top of the bags. As we were walking out the door, The Boos held out his hand. "Of, and boys – call me Carlisle."

We nodded again and shut the door behind us. Once we had walked a bit down the hallway, I pumped my fist, giving Jasper a high five. "Yes! We rock!"

Jasper grinned and clapped me on the back. "I'm gonna go talk to Garrett – see you later."

I nodded as he walked down the hallway, before starting towards the interrogation room. It would have been more fittingly named the torture room, but that sounded too harsh. A plank of wood sitting on a large stone was the only furniture, besides a door in the back. I opened the door to reveal a disgusting cell, filled with black bags, most empty. I threw in our newest catch before slamming the door shut again, punching in the four number code on the keypad.

I turned and walked out, walking through the hall until I made it to the stairwells. I walked up the spiraling staircase, reaching the third floor quickly. I walked down to my room, flinging the door open. I barely had enough energy left to shower, brush my teeth, and change into my pajamas. I lay down on my bed, the events of the day catching up with me. With a rush, I suddenly felt utterly exhausted, as if I had run five miles. I yawned, flipping of the lights. I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

RPOV

I woke that morning to the sound of Royce screaming at someone across the hall. I cussed and threw my head under my pillow, trying to block out the sound. Of course, my _wonderful _boyfriend _insisted_ on continuing to break my ear drums. I groaned and sat up, running my hand through my tangled blond hair before turning to glance at the alarm clock next to my bed. What I saw made my therapist bill go up a few bucks. I stormed out of bed, walking across the hall to Royce's room. I started banging on the door rapidly with my fist, a look of utter rage on my face.

Royce swung the door open as I was bringing my fist down, causing me to punch him in the face. I gasped in horror, watching as he threw his hands up to cover his face. "Are you alright?" I asked breathlessly, my mouth wide in horror.

Royce laughed, putting his hands down. "As if you could hurt me, Rose."

I narrowed my eyes slightly, the words insulting me. But there was nothing I could do about it. I was utterly smitten with Royce. Well, half Royce, half the large sum his family has. I mean, it's never bad to have a few greens, is it? And I mean, now I have a man who can afford to buy me fancy things. I mean, 600$ a week for my pleasure isn't too bad. That thought brought me back to the matter at hand. I glared at Royce. "Now, please, tell me who you are screaming at when it is 6:00 in the fing morning!"

Royce laughed at my reluctance to cuss. "Calm down, Rosie. It's just Alec." I looked past my _charming_ boyfriend to see Alec sitting in one of the chairs. He looked sheepish, and gave me a little wave. I gave him a sarcastic smile, my hands on my hips.

Royce sighed. "Look, Rose, if it bugs you, than move down the hall! I have to run this gang – after all, Father has a low chance of surviving the illness" Royce seemed unaffected that his father could die from cancer.

I groaned, throwing my hands up into tha air. "There aren't any open rooms, you know that!"

Royce sighed. "Look. I'm sorry for waking you up. Now you can go to work early."

I glared at him before reaching the knob from behind him and slamming the door in his face. I sighed dramatically, knowing he could hear me, before walking into my room. I quickly threw on a white button down, stained with oil and grease, along with a pair of skinny jeans flared around the ankles. They were my own design, put into the market by one of my friends, Tanya Denali. She had recently come into the fashion design business, and had asked me to help out with the first line. I had also modeled it for her. I ran a brush through my hair with amazing speed, before throwing on a pair of brown leather boots with 2 inch heels. I was the only mechanic in New York who worked in high heels. Probably why I got so much business from the guys.

I grabbed my tool belt from it's honored spot on the back of my door and snatched my purse from the floor, before waltzing gracefully out of my door. Royce had resumed shouting at poor Alec, and I groaned, walking through the shabby one floor building I call home.

Well, actually, it's not home. It's headquarters for The Greenbacks, the oh-so-wonderful gang belonging to my boyfriend's dad. As you've heard, he has a severe case of lung cancer, probably from his horrid habit of smoking cigars rolled in fake one dollar bills. He is in no state to care for the gang, so Royce has taken over. Royce was an interesting man. When he's sober, he's sweeter then sweet, showering me with gifts. But when he is drunk, he turns on me, beating me. He's drunk more often than not. I had started getting out of this place as often and as long as I could, eventually buying a mechanic's shop from an old man who wanted to retire. I'd always been good with cars, and making a living off of it was a dream come true.

I sighed and sat down in my car, a red convertible that I had bought with my own cash a few months ago. It was still in pristine condition, the leather seats shining like they were new. I grinned and slipped the key into the ignition, sighing happily as I felt the rumble of the engine beneath my feet. I pulled out of the lot slowly, making sure that none of the idiot gang members were driving behind me, before swinging into the highway that lined headquarters. I laughed and pulled out my sunglasses from my purse, slipping them down over my eyes. The wind blew my hair back, whipping strands around my face.

I reached out to the radio, turning up the volume. Driving was my favorite part of the day, as I was able to get away from Royce and his horrid habits. I also was totally in love with my car, so that helped a bit.

I pulled into the lot at my store around 6:30, smiling at the red, revolving sign in front of me. It showed a rose, laid on it's side, with the words "Rose's Mechanics" tracing the stem in black lettering. I had built it myself, the sign actually being the side of the back of a red pickup. I parked the car in my favorite spot in front of the door before fishing my keys from the uncharted depths of my purse.

I unlocked the front door, pushing open the smooth, glass surface. The little bell I'd hooked onto the door jingled as I walked into the dark shop, flicking on the lights. I breathed in the smell of oil from the back, mixed with the scent of the air freshener I kept plugged in behind the desk. I plunked my things down on the front desk before walking into my office.

The walls were painted a deep red, with a plush white carpeting underfoot. A softly humming computer sat on a cherry word desk, a large black leather office chair behind it. A few papers were stacked precisely in one corner, a box of beauty products to the right of my computer keyboard. A small coffee machine was sleeping in the back, next to a mini fridge stocked with fruit, a jug of martini mix, and a few protein shakes. I smiled as I got myself a cup of coffee from the fridge, popping it into the microwave above it. I had decked out the place with some of Royce's money. I was pretty sure he wouldn't notice a few hundred missing dollars. But if he did, that taught him to write his bank account number on the inside of his shoes.

I sat down in my chair, placing the steaming mug on a glass coaster to my right. I clicked the mouse on the dormant computer, watching as the screen sprung to life. I quickly logged into my email and poked around for a little, checking to see if anyone had emailed me ahead of time for a job. Once that was done, I opened a new tab and logged into Royce's email, another thing he shouldn't keep the password where I can find – this time, on the back of his computer. Really, Royce?

What I found in his trash was very interesting. Apparently a large group of boys he had hired all the way from Washington had failed to bring in two prisoners he had asked for, with three of their men missing, presumed dead. The prisoners were informants of a rival gang apparently, The Bloods. Scanning the email further, I noticed that Alec Volturi had been the one to recommend these men to Royce. Probably why he was getting screeched at this morning.

I couldn't keep my eyebrows from rising at the last sentence – _Royce, _it read. _This is your last chance. You must capture either an informant or a hit team member – and you'd better do it fast. Or else. –H_

I frowned. Who was H? And who did he think he was threatening Royce? The only one who threatened Royce and got away with it was me, and even then I only did it when I had to. You never knew where you stood with Royce.

I shrugged. Thinking about this would probably only age me a few years, and God only knows that I didn't need that. I clicked open Rose's Mechanic's website, flipping through new orders or questions. One of these almost sent me off my chair in laughter.

_Do you repair cars? _ It said, an anonymous question.

I clicked on the reply box, typing back. _Of course I do! Any car, any size, any brand, I can do it! _With customers, you had to be nice. Always. I was about to return to my email when a reply to my reply popped up.

_Good. Because a very special car might just be waiting for you soon. Would you like to see?_

I sighed. God, I hated these stupid teenagers, pulling tricks on me. But for some reason, I replied. _Sure._

Another bubble appeared underneath it, this one with a blue paperclip in the top right corner. The bubble itself was empty. I clicked on the paperclip, taking another sip of coffee as it loaded. A large white square pulled up on my screen, a little blue loading bar in the bottom right corner. I drummed my fingers on my desk, impatient. It finally started to show up, starting at the top. At first all I saw was the tips of a few trees, and the sky. As it scrolled down, I saw a building, and the top of a black car. By the time it was finished, it showed a black Hummer, sitting in a lot.

I raised my eyebrows and typed a question mark in the reply box. As it sent, I checked the time – 7:30. I cussed and stood up, walking into the front room. I opened in 30 minutes and nothing was ready yet. Maybe if I'd stayed, I would've seen the next message in time. But I didn't, and so I went to work.

I walked into the 3 car workstation, adjoined to the front room by a small wooden door in the back of my office. I switched on the light, watching as the electricity bathed the place in light. I walked over to the first car stand, bringing it up by turning the wheel. I then repeated that on all of the stands, before checking my inventory of gas and oil. It was 10:00 by the time I had my first customer, and even then it didn't really matter. She was annoying, insulting me at every turn. I just gritted my teeth and fixed the dent in the side of her car, although I was tempted to leave it there, along with what I thought of her. But I didn't, and took the payment without a word.

The rest of the day was slow. I got a few calls from soon-to-be costumers, asking for prices and times. I spent most of my day surfing the web, listening to the radio, and sifting through Royce and I's email. I had closed the tab that held my website.

Too soon it was 7, the sun setting behind the trees and roofs of shops. I sighed and packed up, shutting off the lights. I'd made a measly $150 dollars that day, which wouldn't be enough for Royce. I was sure to get hurt tonight.

It wasn't fair, that. I made more money in a day then Royce made in a whole week. Yet unless I was over the 4 digit mark, he wasn't satisfied. I only went over on my busiest days, and being a gang girl, there was no one who would dare take my side unless it was another gang member.

I sighed and shut off my computer, setting the alarms from my office. After emptying the safe I walked out, locking the doors from the outside. Settling into my car, I drove away slowly, looking longingly at the glowing sign as it faded into the distance.

Too early I pulled into the gang's parking lot. I took a while before I got out, waiting for the song on the radio to end. Then my favorite song came on, and I had to sit and sing. My mom had always told me that I had a good voice, but I didn't trust her. Yet singing was my passion. I sang along softly to the words of "If You Only Knew" by Shinedown, sitting in my still humming car. The night wind blew my hair back into my face, but I didn't care. This was the only time I could be myself.

Too early the song ended, the station going onto commercials. I sighed and pulled my key from the ignition, grabbing my bags and walking into the parking lot. My boots clicked on the pavement as I walked swiftly towards the light, my bag thudding against my hip. Too soon I was at the door, too soon was Royce standing in my face, the scent of alcohol coming of him in waves.

"Hey Roseh," he slurred. "How was work?"

"Good." I tried to push past him, but he wrapped his arms around me.

"Come on, Roseh. Shure yeh don't wanna leave me." Royce broke into a dopy grin.

I sighed and pushed away. "Stop this, Royce. I have to go to my room."

Royce pouted but let me pass. He must not be very drunk yet tonight. I walked as fast I could to my room, trying not to break a heel while trying to get away from Royce as fast as I could. I raced into my room as soon as I reached the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind me. I fell onto my bed and drew in a shuddery breath, closing my eyes.

Images of the mysterious car floated behind my closed lids, before morphing into and image of my father. I rolled over on my gut, mumbling to myself. In the middle of my rantings I fell fast asleep.


End file.
